


The Tickle Game

by Gem_Gem, KittieHill



Series: Kittie And Gem Stories [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Erections, Facials, Frottage, Frustrated John, M/M, More tickling!, Negotiations, Non-Con tickling (At first), Orgasm, Prompt Fic, Sharing a Bed, Teasing, Tickling, cuteness, tickling kink, toilet sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7670839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds out a secret about Sherlock's kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jesstabitmad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesstabitmad/gifts).



> Jesstabitmad asked me to do a tickle fic AGES ago and I totally forgot. Since she got in touch again, I haven't been able to get the prompt out of my head so I asked my perfect and amazing co-writer Gem if she would write with me. 
> 
> I hope this is worth the wait...
> 
> Gem played Sherlock, I was John. 
> 
> Multiple chapters to come.

The case was simple in theory.

John watched as Sherlock had pinned up various photos onto the wall, muttering to himself and then seemingly having an epiphany because the next moment he was snagging John's sleeve and dragging him out into a waiting cab.

When they arrived back to Baker Street, soot covered and smoke scented, John was helping Sherlock hobble up the stairs. Sherlock's shoes were off, discarded as soon as they walked into the hallway whilst John cautiously helped Sherlock with step after step. Sitting down, Sherlock pouted and folded his arms angrily.

“Don't even think about looking like that.” John said angrily, storming to Sherlock's side after putting on the kettle. “It's simple John, even an idiot could solve it.” He mimicked.

“John...” Sherlock attempted to interrupt but John was mid flow.

“You knew about the kidnapper! You knew he was unstable and yet you went flying into an abandoned building – AGAIN!” John turned on Sherlock, gesturing wildly. “You were lucky that the fire brigade were already on scene.”

“How was I to know he had a pyromaniac streak?” Sherlock shouted back, snorting as he lifted his burnt feet to the coffee table and bit his lower lip.

“You're Sherlock bloody Holmes! You know everything.” John said back in reply and moved to the kitchen to pick out his second largest first aid kit and a bowl of cooled boiled water.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Sherlock complained, clenching his long, pale toes and looking as if he might jump up and flee. His body was tensed and slightly jittery, and John wasn’t sure if it was because of the adrenaline from the way the case had ended, or because he was in discomfort. “It’s barely even a first degree burn. I don’t need treatment. Especially not treatment that I can’t do myself!”

“You will shut up and stay here.” John growled, fixing Sherlock with his best Captain Watson stare. “I told you not to go into that bloody warehouse but what did you do? You went in anyway. You could have died Sherlock! If Lestrade hadn't have pulled you out when he did it wouldn't have just been your feet that melted.” John complained and knelt at Sherlock's feet. “I need to check for blisters, make sure it's not worse than it looks now stop whinging and put your feet up here.”

“There are no blisters!” Sherlock told him loudly and yanked his feet away, flexibly bending his legs to check his feet himself. “See? Nothing. Just red skin. Merely the epidermis has been affected – You don’t overly fuss when I spill tea on my hand. This is the same thing.”

“It's not the same thing!” John shouted, grabbing for Sherlock's ankles and holding them steady. “Your bloody shoes have melted!”

John watched Sherlock's face change to one of shock and concern before it was immediately back to neutral.

“I'll buy more.” Sherlock eventually huffed, folding his arms and sitting back on the sofa.

“That's not the problem,” John groaned and rubbed his forehead, feeling the stirrings of a migraine.

“The burn is only a superficial epidermal burn. There is nothing to fear from it – My shoes took the brunt of the heat,” Sherlock said and squirmed with a tightening of his expression. “Let go. This is stupid.”

“I will sit on you.” John threatened, holding his feet and raising an eyebrow “Push me. I dare you.”

Moving so that he could hold Sherlock's foot more firmly, he took the gauze, which had been put in the now warm water and swept it across the sole of Sherlock's foot.

Sherlock froze with a choked sound in the back of his throat, his entire leg seizing up and jerking strongly back, yanking John forward from the sudden and firm motion. Sherlock’s eyes were wide, his mouth twisted and pressed tightly together, and he was grasping at the sofa cushions with a white knuckled grip.

“Sherlock, behave!” John shouted, holding on tighter and pulling Sherlock's leg back in place. “For fucks sake, the longer you struggle, the longer it's going to take. It's like treating a bloody toddler,” he mumbled to himself but careful stroked the skin under Sherlock's big toe with the gauze, his focus entirely on the red skin and not his friend's face.

Kicking out with his other foot, Sherlock bucked and wheezed highly, “Don’t!” He exclaimed, his voice a lot more shrill than John had ever heard it. “I can do it! You don’t need to do it!”

“No because you wont!” John argued with a frown. “What's the matter with you? I've cleaned you up plenty of times and you've never reacted like this...” he opened the antibacterial cream with his other hand and squeezed some onto Sherlock's foot to rub in, running his thumb across the entire area.

Sherlock trembled and writhed stiffly, seemingly unable to keep still and he continued to struggle against John’s attentions. His face was red and his jaw was clenched, and after a few more seconds his chest began to judder uncontrollably before he arched his head back and snorted with clenched eyes.

“Jesus. Are you having a seizure?” John asked, stopping his movements and just watching Sherlock for a long moment. “What's happening? Tell me how you feel?” John used his cream smothered hand to look for a pulse on Sherlock's wrist, taking it and finding it pounding and fast.

With John’s actions ceased, Sherlock slumped into a more pliable and yielding posture, breathing heavily, “No,” he huffed as he apparently got his composure back, and once again tried to pull his feet away from John. “I am not having a seizure – Are you done? I will do my other foot. You don’t need to do it. Watch over me if you want. I don’t want you to do it!”

“What's the big problem?” John frowned, “It's not that much of a big deal to – wait… are you ticklish?” he giggled, “Is that what this is about?”

“No,” Sherlock scoffed, scrambling up the sofa and trying to get away, his face blank but flushed and slightly sweaty. “Don’t be absurd, John.”

“You are aren't you?” John laughed, shaking his head “Are you worried I'll mock you for laughing? It's fine. I've told you. Now just stay still and I'll try not to tickle too much.”

Reaching for Sherlock's other foot before the man could argue, John slicked the cream over the skin and began rubbing it in, this time more aware of Sherlock's reactions as he purposely began to tickle Sherlock's feet. His fingers slid down the centre of the large appendage, curling around the heel and then pushed back up again, always being careful of the burned skin.

Sherlock’s face went somehow redder and he hissed and jerked, trying to curl up in a ball and tug his foot away, “Let…let go,” he got out between his clenched teeth until his breathing changed, hitching and huffing.

“Nope.” John laughed, giggling at Sherlock's predicament. “You deserve this! This is what you get for being a pain in the arse!”

John moved his hand to Sherlock's ankle and tickled there before trailing back down to the middle of his foot and smiling at the choking sound from Sherlock.

“This…is…not…” Sherlock trailed off with a spluttering and then squirmed with a bark of laughter, slumping down on the sofa and kicking and wriggling, as he was suddenly overcome, unable to hold back any longer.

John laughed and stood up, almost upending the bowl of water on the floor as he twisted and positioned himself so he was straddling Sherlock's calves, his bum sitting on Sherlock's lap as he tickled Sherlock's feet and toes. John was too busy giggling, teasing his friend to notice that Sherlock had frozen in place, tensing up completely as John's fingers flitted from one place to another.

Sherlock cried out and grasped at John’s back, fisting his hands into John’s jumper roughly and thumping at him, “St-stop! No…John…stop!” He snorted and howled between peels of laughter, his toes flexing in a spasm as he tried to upend John and squirm away. “This is…physical…physical abuse!” Giggling Sherlock tugged on John’s clothes with scrambling and twitching fingers.

“Makes up for the years of constant verbal abuse from you. I can get my own back” John laughed, slightly giddy at how suddenly powerful he felt. “Adler said she could make you beg for mercy twice. I bet I could do better.” he said “Beg me.”

Whining with a rumbling chuckle, Sherlock continued to move, yanking and clawing at John’s back and arms, “Th-this is…torture!” He chortled, voice cracking as he fidgeted and tried to kick out.

“Phone the UN. After you beg...” John said as he rubbed the top of Sherlock's feet, up to his ankles and then back down again.

Sherlock thumped at John’s back again and then shuddered and arched, uncoordinated and wild while he fought to be free for another minute, “Please!” He bellowed on a hitching few breaths. “P-please! Please stop…stop!”

“Say sorry for going into that building and hurting yourself even though I told you not to” John insisted, digging his fingers into the sole of Sherlock's foot again which created a wheezing sound from behind him. The position John was in, stopped him being able to actually see Sherlock but it didn't seem like he was in any particular pain which allowed John to continue with the friendly teasing.

“I’m…I’m sorry!” Sherlock panted beseechingly between hysterical bursts of crying laughter. “I’m sorry!—Please! John…stop!” He bucked, thrashed, jerked, and twisted frenziedly.

John smirked and continued “And now say, 'You're the greatest man in the whole world, John.'”

Sherlock whined highly on a convulsive giggle and kept up his fidgeting, “I will not—stroke your ego.” He broke off into a new, loud, and fragmented howl of laughter as John tickled him more, and bucked, gripping at John’s jumper even more tightly. “You’re…you’re the…th-the great…the greatest man…in…in the…in the whole world…John.” Sherlock said his name on a long drawn-out groan and a full body tremor, his voice pitching low and husky.

“Yes I am.” John laughed, stopping the torturous tickling Sherlock, smiling to himself as he let the younger man's feet fall to the ground. John stepped back, wiping his greasy hands on his trousers before looking at Sherlock and gasping, Sherlock looked utterly wrecked, exhausted and drained as he lay half sprawled across the sofa. His face was bright red, blotches of colour going down his chest and throat to be hidden by the white shirt underneath but what was most worrying was the rather large erection pressed against the seam of Sherlock's trousers and the suspiciously large wet patch over Sherlock's crotch.

“Did you – piss yourself?” John asked awkwardly, blinking and then clearing his throat.

“...Don’t talk to me,” Sherlock said in embarrassment breathlessly, pawing and then pushing feebly at the sofa to try and reposition himself, his eyes seemingly unable to focus.

“Sherlock I – I'm sorry. I didn't have any idea. I thought you were just – I don't know.” John cleared his throat. “Do you want me to… get you something? Clean pants? A flannel?”

“No,” Sherlock grumbled and finally pushed up with shaking limbs. “I told…you to stop…”

“Let me help you,” John insisted, trying to hold onto Sherlock, “to your feet…”

Sherlock flinched from John automatically with a shudder, “No!” He exclaimed scrambling gracelessly and almost tumbling to the floor. “Just…leave me.”

John nodded sadly and began tidying up the first aid kit. He took it back into the kitchen and watched as Sherlock shakily got to his feet, holding onto the sofa for leverage. Sherlock's hand came to rest over the soaked placket of his trousers with a wince, before Sherlock took a few tiny obviously painful steps towards his bedroom. “I'm sorry,” John said after him.

Sherlock scoffed huffily and didn’t look back, hobbling through the threshold of his bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him. There was a soft thud as Sherlock obviously leaned against the door and then gentle drags of fabric as he slid down to sit on the floor.


	2. Awkward Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No smut, Sorry guys.
> 
> Next chapter though! - wink wink -

Knowing that he wouldn't be welcome and that Sherlock was more than likely to flee, John stayed away from Sherlock's room and instead made himself a cup of tea. He sat in his chair, feeling slightly shaky and on edge after Sherlock's reaction. John sipped his tea, thinking about the ways Sherlock had acted, his breathy exhales, his desperate whines and keens. John felt a scratching at the back of his mind as though he was forgetting something.

It wasn't until ten minutes later that John thought to give the reactions a quick search. John had obviously known about such things happening but he wanted to make sure he was right in his diagnosis and if he had to try and talk to Sherlock about it. John picked up his laptop and immediately got onto the Internet, researching so quickly that it would make the Yard jealous. The pubococcygeus muscle, more commonly known as the PC muscle, was what controlled urine flow, as well as contracting during orgasm, and this was probably one of the muscles that is tensed and contracted during laughter. John wondered if he would need to suggest Kegel exercises and winced as he mentally pictured how such a conversation would go. Many people wet themselves whilst being tickled, John had witnessed a few childhood friends doing so in his youth, it wasn’t entirely surprising or abnormal, but John was still slightly concerned with his friend’s state of mind and wanted to offer something as a way to make sure it never happened again. Not that John wanted to tickle Sherlock again. Although he wouldn’t exactly say no. John flushed at his whirling thoughts and that flush only deepened when he looked at the screen to see that his search results had happily supplied him with a urine fetish.

Sherlock’s hand came seemingly from nowhere when John was rapidly scrolling and snapped John’s laptop shut, catching his fingers. He glowered at John with a pink tinge on his cheeks and then wrenched the laptop away and dropped it roughly on the desk as he past it. He sat sulkily in his chair, gripping the armrests and staring at John with a sullen expression and a sharp, piercing gaze.

“I was using that.” John huffed, folding his arms and meeting Sherlock's gaze.

“I can assure you that I was well aware of that obvious fact,” Sherlock replied and narrowed his eyes.

John inhaled sharply, obviously about to speak before he gulped and started again, “Sherlock --”

“No,” Sherlock interrupted, the pink on his cheeks deepening. “I’d very much like it if you…at least tried to forget what just happened. Do not touch me again without my say so.”

“Look, I know you're embarrassed but there's no need. I – understand. I’m a doctor and… this isn’t quite uncommon. It's fine. I'm not disgusted or offended or anything. I just…perhaps you just need to work on your…muscles a bit to stop that from happening next time – Not that there’ll be a next time! Not with me. Or, well, it could be with me but…I won’t…I’ll ask first maybe.” John was blushing bright red now, all the way to the tips of his ears.

“I hate you,” Sherlock mumbled, digging his fingers into his chair. “I do not wish to speak about it…” He stared at John intimidatingly, but the flush of his face countered the harsh look, making him seem more ashamed than angry.

“For fucks sake, Sherlock,” John groused, “It's not like it's anything to be ashamed of. It's just touching. I'm sorry I touched you that way, I thought it was a joke but obviously it's not so I won't do it again.”

John sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing his face, “Listen, I’ll be straight with you, and myself, and say that I…I actually enjoyed it.” He admitted softly before shrugging. “I liked hearing you laugh like that.”

Sherlock blinked, “Why?” He asked with a faint frown. “You’ve heard me laugh before…”

“Not like that.” John corrected, “Not almost hysterical and manic. It was… funny. Pleasing almost.”

John avoided the topic of Sherlock's breathy little moans and sighs which had lodged somewhere in the back of John's brain to be remembered at a more suitable – and alone, time.

Sherlock recoiled in his chair, “It wasn’t funny…” he groused and eyed John closely for a few, long moments. “You…don’t know what happened, do you? – You don’t know what you did.” He glanced at John’s laptop fleetingly. “Didn’t get much research done in my absence then. Good.”

“I made you – wet yourself.” John grimaced and looked away. “And I’m sorry about that.”

“No,” Sherlock told him slowly and then fidgeted, looking unsure for a brief second. “It wasn’t urine.”

“What else could it b—Oh. Oh I – really?” John asked, his eyes now open and searching Sherlock. “From tickling?”

Sherlock’s face bloomed red, “Yes,” he mumbled. “It’s…called Knismolagnia, I believe. And there are two types of scientific terms to do with…tickling. Knismesis and gargalesis…”

“I see...” John said then shook his head. “Actually, I'm lying, I don't see. You're aroused by tickling?”

“Basically, yes—I don’t choose to be!” Sherlock said, looking wholly embarrassed and pulling up his legs to tuck his sore feet under him. “Seeing as you are my friend, I’d appreciate it if the information didn’t leave this room. It is not something I want people to know.”

“Why would I tell people?” John frowned, “It has nothing to do with anybody else.”

Trying to relax himself, John wiggled his toes and took a deep breath, “Have you – explored it with anyone? A previous partner?”

Sherlock hunkered down in his chair, “No. With strangers. Years ago. When I didn’t understand what it was and—I don’t want to talk about it!”

John felt a strange lump of jealousy lodge in his throat, which refused to move even when John swallowed repeatedly. The thought of Sherlock, his best friend and the man with whom he'd had some very confusing feelings, being touched by strangers made something deep down very unhappy.

Realising he had possibly taken too long to respond, John cleared his throat and bent his head side to side before asking, “Can I ask a final question though?”

With a sigh, Sherlock rolled his eyes, “What is it now?”

“What do you like about it? Is it the sensations, or the lack of control?” John asked with a hitch to his voice, betraying him at the last moment.

Sherlock squinted at him in instant suspicion and then swallowed and shifted on his chair, “No,” he told John with a wavering exhale that was very telling. “Give me your word that you won’t use this against me.”

“I'm not sure I can.” John said, “I can promise that I won't tell a soul. I can promise that I'll never make you do anything you don't want to do… but I can't promise that I won't use it against you here, at home, in a safe and secure place where you can – experiment to your hearts content. With me. If you want to.” He trailed off and swallowed, sitting back in his chair and attempting to look confident.

“I…” Sherlock blinked rapidly at John, fidgeting in his seat, and glanced away with a thoughtful frown, picking and brushing idly at his knees. “You don’t think this is…a bit not good?”

“I think if we let it be 'not good' then it will turn not good.” John explained, biting his lower lip. “I'll put my cards on the table now okay? I'm a dominant person, I like to be dominant, I like to make my partners submissive and so far, all my partners have been willing women who don't test me. I've recently found that I've become – attracted, to you. Probably always have been but I'm an idiot.” He chuckled and looked at Sherlock warmly. “What I'm saying is, I want a challenge. I want someone who can be submissive but also fight against me. I want you, basically...”

Sherlock stared at him for over a minute in complete silence, hardly moving and barely breathing, and then he got up on his feet gingerly and hobbled away, “I need a moment,” he muttered as he went by John’s chair, avoiding eye contact and disappearing into his bedroom with a soft click of his door.

“That went well.” John grumbled, letting his head fall into his hands. He stayed in the silent living room for a few more minutes before getting up and switching off the TV, he put his cup in the sink and tidied away the first aid kit, putting it back in its proper place before walking up the stairs to his room.

He had fully intended on undertaking his usual post case ritual. He would shower, shave and then have a long, teasing wank until he came so hard he could see stars. John normally fell into a deep sleep immediately after, waking the next day feeling sated and pleasured, however tonight, John felt unable to relax. Arousal made his skin itch but he had no interest in pleasuring himself as he slipped into bed and turned off the lights, pulling the covers up to his chin and wondering what on earth he was going to do.


	3. First Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT
> 
> Still other chapters to follow.

Just as he had drifted off into what John knew would be a somewhat restless sleep, Sherlock knocked gently on his bedroom door. He opened it without waiting for John to reply and grant him entry and stepped in, the hallway light suddenly flooding into the room making John blink and wince. “All right,” Sherlock murmured lowly from where he stood.

“Hmm?” John mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. The alarm clock showed that only an hour had passed since he came up but he was already bleary. “What did you say?”

“I said, all right,” Sherlock repeated, eyes flitting around the room before landing on John and staying there.

“Oh.” John whispered, suddenly wide-awake “You mean to the – earlier? You agree?”

Sherlock seemed unsure but nodded tentatively.

“Great, that's --” John laughed, the smile reaching his eyes which crinkled and sparkled. “That's really great. Okay. Fantastic!”

John looked at his bed and then to Sherlock who was shivering near the door wearing his thin pyjamas and robe in the cold winter air of Baker Street, “Do you want to get in? Just to sleep… nothing else.”

Sherlock hesitated, glancing out of John’s bedroom, but ultimately shut the door behind him and hobbled slightly over, slipping into the bed with him, “Pineapple,” he told him and looked a little sheepish. “It was my safeword – Though we can change it if you like…”

“No. That's good. You'll remember it,” John smiled and turned to face Sherlock. “We will need to talk about boundaries, likes and dislikes. Anything that can trigger you or upset you. We'll need to talk about punishments and treats too.”

John ran a finger up Sherlock's torso, watching the detective flinch as it tickled against his ribs, “and we'll need to discuss just how far we take this.” His eyes dropped to Sherlock's lips, which were glistening with moisture from being recently licked, “whether we engage in other things.”

“Other…things?” Sherlock echoed as he glanced into John’s face and shifted with a swiftly growing blush. “Oh – Well, I suppose so. Should we talk about that…now?

John nodded and smiled warmly, “It's okay if you're not sure about something, but I need you to tell me the truth. Don't agree to something that you're not comfortable with just because you think it's what I want. I want to know what you want.” John explained before touching Sherlock's chin softly. “Would you like to kiss?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied almost immediately, leaning into him until their noses bumped. He pulled back a second later, however, and frowned. “Is that one of the “other things” then? Kissing? Any type of kissing?”

“Umhmm,” John hummed and moved forward to press a gentle and almost tender kiss on Sherlock's lips. He moved back and watched as Sherlock blinked rapidly, “Okay, what about intimate touching? Can I touch your penis? Would you want to touch mine?”

Sherlock snorted with a quirk of his mouth and yet another surge of colour up his face, “Yes,” he replied, relaxing a bit more into the bed beside John. He seemed more at ease in the darkness of the bedroom and the soft way in which John spoke.

“Good.” John smiled again, kissing Sherlock again. “I think we've found the best way to reward you. I think you like the kisses.” John said without cruelty and stroked a hand through Sherlock's hair. “Okay, now this is a biggy and I understand if you need some time to think about it. Sometimes… just sometimes...” he trailed off and cleared his throat, “I might want to call you a clever boy, or a good lad. I'm not trying to make you into a child but – I quite like it. Would that be acceptable? You can have some time to think.”

“Well, I am clever,” Sherlock murmured with fluttering eyelids, pressing into John’s touch and turning to be closer to him on the bed, lying on his side and exuding heat, the smell of antiseptic cream, and the familiar, heady and spicy musk of his natural scent.

“Yes you are, you're my clever boy.” John shivered and arched his hips away from Sherlock to hide his now throbbing erection.

Sherlock grinned at him, closing his eyes in pleasure, “Yes,” he whispered contentedly. “It would indeed be acceptable. I like it.”

“Good. I like it too.” John chuckled and then reached out to stroke up Sherlock's side again, this time dipping under his t-shirt to rub against Sherlock's nipple. “Final question. Do you want to go the whole way and have full sex?” John bit his lip but circled Sherlock's areola with his fingernail. “I understand it's a big step so we'll take that slow… but I need to know are you a virgin?”

Sherlock twitched softly at John’s touch, opening his eyes again to regard him, “I've never had full sex if that's what you mean.”

“You've done other things? With the – strangers?” John coaxed.

Sherlock blinked at him for a moment, his eyebrows meeting in irritation before he shrugged, “Only tickling. I told you. I tried it with strangers. Meaning I went to one of those fetish parties, found the area where people were willingly tied up and tickled, and gave it a go. – It was an interesting experience. They did nothing but tickle me until I’d had enough. My feet, my underarms, the backs of my knees, my stomach. And once I wanted them to stop, I merely said my safeword. Truth be told I wasn’t there long. I tried it, obviously, but I didn't like it that much. It was too --” he gestured absently with his hand and then dropped it to the bed again.

Listening whilst Sherlock spoke, John was slightly giddy at the thought that Sherlock was a virgin and seemingly untouched sexually by anybody else.

“So that’s…something you want then? The sex?” Sherlock asked quietly after a long moment of silence, searching John’s face and looking just a tiny bit timid, until John nodded and smiled that special John Watson smile. “Hm. I suppose I have thought about it, once or twice, so it’s not too daunting – All right then.”

“I'll be gentle,” John promised, moving close to Sherlock so they were breathing the same air, “careful,” he said as he nudged Sherlock's nose with his own, “and very – very slow.” John surged forward and kissed Sherlock, it was passionate but not overly sexual as he tilted Sherlock back and then pulled away with a sigh.

Swallowing audibly, Sherlock shuddered and stared at him with glazed eyes and widening pupils, “Right…well…okay then. I trust you,” he whispered huskily, seeming dazed with arousal and adjusting his leg placement reticently.

“Good. That's all I ask. Trust me, let me look after you.” John moaned and rested his forehead against Sherlock's. “I'm going to have to – go to the bathroom. Then we can sleep.”

“Bathroom?” Sherlock repeated with another shudder. “You’ve been to the bathroom already. I heard you. You have a bedtime routine after a case.”

“Yeah well something came up… literally.” John chuckled and looked down at his erection, which was leaking precome through his boxers and dripping down onto the sheet. “I'll deal with it.”

Sherlock slowly followed John’s gaze, “Oh,” he muttered. “You… don’t need to go to the bathroom to fix that though, surely?” He shifted and reached clumsily for John, placing one of his hands on John’s hot hip. “I…did agree to intimate touching after all…”

“We haven't talked about – boundaries.” John said, his voice already deeper just from the touch of Sherlock's hand against his skin. John knew that arguing wouldn't help anything and he sighed, “Are you – as well?"

“…Yes,” Sherlock replied, briefly looking ashamed at the admittance.

John moaned and immediately changed persona, flipping them so Sherlock was lying on his back with John between his legs. Their penises lined up perfectly and the heat was almost too much to bear even through two sets of fabric. John growled and pulled up Sherlock's shirt, exposing his entire flushed torso with a dangerous smile, “If I do anything you don't want. Use your safeword, you understand?”

Sherlock nodded, already beginning to breathe heavily in anticipation, his body tense and twitching in bouts of contradicting eager anxiety, “All right,” he exhaled, unsure of where to put his hands. “I…might struggle though.”

“No you won't.” John replied, swooping down to kiss Sherlock and bully his mouth open with his tongue. “Because you're a genius. You'll be perfect.”

John moved his fingers to each of Sherlock's nipples, coaxing them even harder and pinching them slightly before running his hands up and down the sweat sheened torso, “Open your pyjamas and take us both out. Wrap your hands around them both.”

“Okay,” Sherlock said in a small voice, shaking as he did as John told him and pushed the waistband of his pyjamas down to expose himself, before reaching to free John of his underwear. His long fingers and large palms enveloped and squeezed their naked erections, rubbing their hard, scorching hot lengths together. Sherlock’s penis was flushed pink at the head and faintly throbbing, and Sherlock inhaled a hitching sound as he looked down to compare the differences between John and himself.

“No deducing until tomorrow,” John muttered with a smirk, kissing Sherlock as he ran his hand down Sherlock's flank to twist his fingers into the ticklish spot under his ribs. John stroked and probed the area, watching as Sherlock coughed, his eyes flying open in surprise and his grip on their cock's getting tighter. “Feel good?” John asked, his hips bucking involuntarily.

Sherlock jolted and shivered, unable to respond for a while as he tried to control himself, “Yes,” he said through his teeth, the first bubble of laughter sneaking up his throat and flushing his cheeks.

“You're fucking beautiful like this,” John said, balancing awkwardly so that he could use both hands whilst also frotting against Sherlock. His other hand moved to Sherlock's nipple, pinching them and rolling them before joining John's attack on the ticklish bit on Sherlock's torso. With both hands, the sensations were more intense and John watched Sherlock closely, arousal thick around them.

With a wheeze and a garbled whine, Sherlock firmly squeezed their erections together and pressed his arms tight to his sides as he began squirming and giggling with heightening pleasure. From the looks of things, it took a lot for Sherlock to keep a hold of them, his hands flexing and sometimes jerking away only to come back unsteadily. Sherlock’s laughter filled the bedroom, rising in volume the more John’s fingers skidded up the bumps of his heaving ribs, nearing his armpits.

“Yes,” John moaned, dropping his head to place a sloppy and un-centred kiss on Sherlock's lips. John used his toes to push into the bed, thrusting further into Sherlock's grip whilst his hands carefully made their way up to Sherlock's chest. John let his thumbs brush Sherlock's nipples only to then attack the sensitive skin just underneath Sherlock's armpits.

Sherlock arched tautly and cried out with clenched eyes, kicking his legs either side of John and losing his grip on their cocks to scramble at John’s arms, bucking and twisting and writhing, “No!” He exclaimed between booming rumbles of laughter, shuddering with a rough, eager bouncing of his penis, which smeared pre-ejaculate on the underside of Sherlock’s navel.

“No?” John teased, “No I shouldn't keep doing this?” He asked, pushing his fingers into Sherlock's ribs and back up again.

Snorting and then squirming, Sherlock contorted lithely wherever John touched, bending to try and stop him whilst at the same time he rolled up his hips with another few bounces of his slicked erection, “Stop! St-stop!”

“If you want me to stop, you know what to say.” John laughed, bending down to kiss Sherlock frantically and then pulling back up. John grabbed Sherlock's free hand and pulled it up the bed with a look of pure animalistic lust in his eyes, Sherlock's underarm was now unprotected and John smirked before lowering his hand to the dark curls inside, twisting them around and around his index finger before wiggling his fingers.

Sherlock stiffened for a second and then bellowed with more chuckles, kicking and thrashing and wriggling hysterically, his other hand clawing at John as he fought to free himself. It only took a faint wiggle of John’s fingertips for Sherlock to choke on a hitching giggle and arch up, clenching his eyes shut with a silent scream of pleasure. Sherlock’s penis thickened and spurted hotly between them in thick pulses, coating Sherlock’s juddering stomach and slicking up John’s own cock to string them together with a line of pearly ejaculate.

“Oh, Fuck! Sherlock!” John cried reaching down for his own cock to stroke it roughly twice before he was coming with a choked off moan. John's cock twitched as rope after rope of liquid oozed over their skin and his hand only to be rubbed into Sherlock's belly, causing further giggles as it tickled. John partially collapsed onto Sherlock with an oomph, kissing his forehead and then rolling over onto the other side of the bed. “That. Was. Brilliant” he laughed.

“…I’m covered in semen,” Sherlock slurred in the seconds that followed gracelessly, still breathing hard and twitching. He huffed and then tried to focus on John, reaching for him timidly with trembling fingers.

John shuffled closer and opened his arms, allowing Sherlock to put his head across John's heartbeat. John kissed Sherlock's hair sweetly and then began to gently stroke up and down Sherlock's spine, feeling every twitch and shudder the gentle tickling caused. “We'll clean you up tomorrow.” John said with a yawn, “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied sleepily and snorted with a wonky, teasing smirk. “Though that could be the orgasm talking.”

“Twat.” John laughed, kissing Sherlock's head again. “Get some sleep.”


	4. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smutty smuttttttt

Sherlock was complaining under his breath the next morning, bringing John from his slumber, just as Sherlock left the room to shower, brush his teeth, and shave. He returned with his laptop after, jostling John even further into consciousness as he sat down on the bed with crossed legs, chewing on some biscuits and checking his mail. He wasn’t dressed, merely draped in his dressing gown, and he grumbled while he rapidly read through the first ten emails.

“Morning to you too.” John grumbled, blinking and looking at the alarm clock on his table. “Sherlock, it's 6am!”

“Yes. Believe it or not I am able to tell the time,” Sherlock replied and finished off his biscuits, leaving crumbs on the covers. “But, as you might remember, I was covered in our collective juices. I needed a shower.”

John rubbed at his eyes and grinned rudely, “I remember very well. You look rather delicious when you're glazed.”

Sherlock blushed instantly but shot him a sideways half-hearted glare, “Do I,” he huffed, though his head was tilted for more compliments.

“Mmm,” John smiled, reaching out his hand under the covers to caress the inside of Sherlock's knee. “Would you wear it for me one time? Before we go to the yard? I'll come on your chest and belly and rub it in and you'd have to wear it all day. Smelling like me?”

He moved his hand further up Sherlock's thigh, tickling slightly as he went before John rolled onto his stomach and began rutting into the mattress. “The thought alone is enough to get me off… I suppose if you're a good boy and sweep the crumbs from the mattress, I might let you play.”

Sherlock blinked widely at John with his lips parted and then scrambled up to his feet, almost dropping his laptop. He cleared at the bed, finding and brushing all the crumbs to the floor with a blush up his neck. When he was done he stood by the bed and looked at John, frowning a little in thought but mostly focused on John and John alone. His dressing gown did little to hide his obvious interest and growing arousal, as his erection pressed up against the material in the moments that followed, peeking out through the loosely tied sash with a rosy head.

“What's wrong pet?” John asked, “You look confused or worried. Tell me.”

“Pet?” Sherlock repeated with a stunned expression, sitting back down on the bed. “I hope that’s an endearment and not what I am?” He grinned at John cockily.

It was John's turn to blush now and he dipped his head, “Sorry, went too far. Yes it was an endearment. I'm not trying to – y'know. Make you into my slave or anything.”

Sherlock’s grin widened and he moved to lie down next to him, “I like endearments,” he told him. “You’ve never directed any at me before. You do like to call me a twat or a git, but they’re a different type. A fondly resigned type.”

“I thought you'd tell me off.” John laughed, feeling less self-conscious. “Plus I was worried you might have deduced my little – kink. Which reminds me. You're supposed to be playing – PET,” he smirked.

“Ah. Yes. Right. I…yes – I’m not…really sure how?” Sherlock admitted as he looked John over and bit his bottom lip. He smiled after a moment and reached out to smooth his hand down John’s back, following the dip of his spine and then cupping his backside. “Like this?”

“Mmmm, that's a very, very good start,” John hummed, pushing his hips up into Sherlock's touch. “Anything you want, you can do. Within reason of course… Just give me warning before you do anything.”

Sherlock pursed his mouth in consideration and then nudged John until he rolled over, descending on his torso and stomach by lifting his vest, “You’re nice and warm,” he mumbled as he inspected the scar on his shoulder and the muscled line of his pectorals.

“That's because I was nice and cosy warm in bed until a madman woke me up.” John grumbled but ran his hand down Sherlock's spine to show he was joking.

Gently dropping his head to John’s uncovered chest, Sherlock listened to his heartbeat and stroked over his skin, fingering the blonde hairs trailing from John’s navel, “You should be use to that by now,” he murmured. “Are you ticklish?”

“Not especially.” John shrugged, “My inner thighs are sensitive though.”

“Does this arrangement between us mean that you will no longer date abhorrent and boring women?” Sherlock asked, stroking down over John’s pelvis and very shyly cupping his testicles, rolling them around in his hand with interest.

John considered for a moment before sitting up slightly, leaning into Sherlock's personal space, “Do you want this to be something – committed? Are you my… boyfriend?”

Sherlock looked at him with an edge of coyness to his features, “I…don’t know,” he mumbled, moving up on his knees beside him. “You didn’t bring it up last night. You merely changed physical aspects in our relationship, not the relationship itself…so I’m not exactly sure what…this is or…if you want something specific?” He pulled a face. “If being your boyfriend is anything like being your girlfriend, I’ll pass. I don’t want to be taken to tedious restaurants across town or horrid concerts.”

John barked a laugh and shook his head, “Being my boyfriend will be pretty much exactly what we do now. Except with sex and more cuddles… and possibly gifts.”

Running a hand through Sherlock's curls, John pulled him closer to kiss softly before letting go, “I know it’s a lot to take in, but I think it’s worth thinking about. We can be exclusive to one another and nothing else will change. I'll still come to crime scenes, I'll still moan about experiments only now… when you won't do the washing up, I can spank you or tickle you until you relent.”

Sherlock swallowed thickly, “Oh,” he breathed, blinking and then smirking, “What sort of gifts?”

John smiled, kissing Sherlock's cheek, “Oh I don't know, a new set of beakers… that classical CD you've wanted for a while… a new pair or rope binds for me to tie you to the bed with. All sorts.”

Sherlock puffed out a light chuckle and then cheekily shifted to straddle John’s lap, “I suppose I’d have to buy you gifts in return?” He asked and reached to stroke up John’s shoulders and neck, admiring him and leaning in to press their faces side by side.

“That would be awfully nice.” John moaned, feeling the heat from Sherlock's body against his own. “What would you buy me?”

“Better jumpers,” Sherlock joked with a snort, pushing his fingers up into John’s hair and over his scalp. When he pulled back he grinned at him and massaged his way down John’s arms, taking John’s hands to skilfully stroke and knead with his fingers.

“Git,” John replied and gave Sherlock's arse a good slap. “Nothing wrong with my jumpers.”

Sherlock rocked with the hit, exhaling with a gruff sound, and shifted on him, eyeing his wardrobe, “Some of them are terrible. Utterly terrible,” he said with an impish arch of his eyebrows.

“Maybe I'll shag you in one. No, even better idea! We'll both wear one. Lets see if we can start a fire,” He laughed and then tilted his head. “Why are we talking about my jumpers when its morning, I have a hard on and we're semi naked?”

Shrugging, Sherlock ran his hands up and down John’s torso, shifting his position on his lap a little with a flush, “We needed to talk about your jumpers at some stage,” he replied and leaned in to hesitantly press their forehead together.

“Is this an intervention? Because it isn't the best time.” John smiled and moved his hand to cup Sherlock's hot, hard cock. “Shuffle up a bit, sit on my chest.”

“All right,” Sherlock said with a shaky breath, squirming a moment and then shifting up on his knees to shuffle up John’s body. Sherlock’s penis peeked through his dressing gown again with a moist tip and an eager bob, and Sherlock glanced down at it as it came close to John’s face. “I’m not sure if you should do that…”

“Me neither. I've never done it before,” John said with a nervous chuckle. “But first time for everything.”

John raised his head and licked around Sherlock's generous foreskin, tasting the first tangy taste of precome on his tongue. He swallowed it down and moaned gently, opening his mouth wider to suckle on the very tip, resting it on his tongue as he licked, sucked and tasted with a hum.

Sherlock tensed up and reached to grip onto the headboard, “Good thing I had a shower…” he muttered jokingly as his erection throbbed in reaction to John’s ministrations, oozing a bit more into John’s mouth.

“Hmm,” John hummed again, his hands moving to cup Sherlock's arse through the soft silk of his robe. John focussed on the sensitive frenulum and then bobbed his head, attempting to take more into his throat before he gagged and pulled back. “It's too big.” He groaned, watching Sherlock's ego being boosted in front of him as he hid a smile. “It wont fit.”

Sherlock flushed and glanced down at him, flexing his hips to nudge John playfully on the chin with his penis, “It is above average,” he murmured arrogantly with a gleam in his eyes. He glanced back at John’s crotch and then gave him a considering look. “Do…you want me to do the same thing?”

“Not right now.” John smiled, “If you want to, in future, that's fine.”

John sucked the tip back into his mouth and rocked gently back and forth, managing to take the first few inches which he licked and sucked at. Noticing that Sherlock's hands were on the headboard, John smirked and worked his way up from Sherlock's hips to his chest before running both hands inside Sherlock's armpits.

Sherlock jerked instantly, thrusting into John’s mouth and slamming his arms down on his hands, “Ah! No!” He cried out with laughter, squirming and sniggering as he shivered.

John gagged and turned his head to take a deep breath, calming his stomach down whilst seemed to roll dangerously. John closed his eyes and breathed through his nose before cracking one open and looking at Sherlock, “My fault. Shouldn't have tried that,” he burst into giggles and licked around the closed tip of Sherlock's foreskin. “Let's try it slower eh?”

“All right,” Sherlock said, already sounding out of breath as he panted in anticipation and eagerness for more tickling, even with his arms plastered to his sides to stop it. “What do you want me to do if I’m going to ejaculate?”

“Oh er, do it on my chest.” John shrugged and wrapped one hand around the base of Sherlock's cock to hold it steady so he couldn't choke, whilst the other wrapped around Sherlock's still sore feet. Being very careful of the skin, John drew small circles on the inside of Sherlock's sole with a grin as he returned to licking and sucking on the tip of his dick.

Sherlock made an odd and quite unmanly squeak in response and blushed, jerking and rocking with titters of laughter, “John, must you?” He said as he writhed, reaching to swat at him weakly, his fingers scrambling but forever moving as he wriggled his toes and moaned a little, confused and a little overcome with the duelling sensations.

“Oh I must. I really, really must,” John insisted as he picked up the pace, sucking harder whilst making bigger circles, tickling the edges of Sherlock's feet and then up to his toes. His own cock was hard and leaking, ignored in his pants whilst his chest sweated under Sherlock's plush bum.

After only a few minutes Sherlock was gasping and laughing breathlessly, his hips moving erratically with more and more fervour, “O-oh,” he hiccupped around a hitching giggle as his erection thickened in John’s mouth, spurting a small line of ejaculate before Sherlock yanked back with a red face and a loud, laughing sort of groan. Before he could warn John of his obviously rapid climax, he spilled hotly over his face in strong, bursts.

John spluttered, slamming his eyes closed and dropping his hands to the bed to clench into the covers. He felt the warmth covering his face and pooling in his eye sockets only to drip down towards his ears, whilst the overwhelmingly pungent smell of ejaculate lingered.

“Sherlock?...” John asked, unable to open his eyes. He licked his lips and winced at the taste of semen. “This...” he pointed to his face, “Isn't my chest is it. It's my face.”

Sherlock panted roughly and then laughed, shifting back to sit on John’s stomach, “You should see yourself,” he got out, stilling laughing as he moved to sit beside John on the bed. He collapsed in an amused heap, shaking the bed with his snorting of hilarity.

“Oh yes, you're bloody hilarious. Go get me a flannel,” John chuckled and shook his head. “Twat,” he said softly.

Sherlock left the room briefly and then came back to bend over John and wipe his face clean with a warm and damp towel, making sure to clean up his ejaculate from everywhere but John’s pillow, “At least this means you’re good?” Sherlock sniggered, looking at him with a wide smile when John could finally get his eyes open.

John moved quickly and grabbed Sherlock, pinning Sherlock under him. John straddled Sherlock's hips and quirked an eyebrow at the speed in which he got the upper hand. John trailed his hands down Sherlock's sides and then pulled out his own aching cock, using Sherlock's stomach to rut against whilst he began tickling Sherlock maddeningly, “Not so funny now are you? Ey?” John teased.

Arching tautly, Sherlock shouted out and struggled, pushing at John’s shoulders and chest as he laughed so hard tears streamed down his face, “St-stop! Stop…John please!” He bucked and writhed, muscles tensing and bunching with each new thunder of laughter. “Wait…let me…let…let me get my…breath back!”

“Are you safewording?” John teased, moving down to kiss and suck on Sherlock's neck as he rutted. “Tell me.”

Sherlock turned his head aside to allow John more room to get at his throat and continued to laugh and writhe wildly, grabbing at John and pushing at him in equal measure, his body vibrating and hot, and his deflating penis giving a wet twitch of interest.

“Come on Sherlock, be a good boy. Tell me. Are you safewording?” John moaned directly into Sherlock's ear causing a shiver down the younger man's spine. John was sweating, gasping and moaning as his orgasm rushed at him like a freight train, throwing him slightly as he bit onto Sherlock's neck.

Panting with a throaty groan and a deep, thunderous laugh, Sherlock shook his head in answer, sweating a little with a blotchy face, “N-no. No…no John…no…”

“Can I come on your belly?” John asked, his hips becoming uncoordinated as he neared his peak. “I want to cover you in my come.”

“Yes…yes…” Sherlock scrambled to open and then remove his dressing gown, but left it trapped under him and nodded, his eyes rolling back as he enjoyed the rough movement and the erratic tickling of John’s flexing, clumsy hands.

John gave a growl and two long thrusts before he was coming, pulsing across Sherlock's skin in thick strands, which left him seeing stars. John steadied himself with one hand whilst the other dug into Sherlock's sweaty skin, attempting to drive Sherlock over the edge again with just his fingers. “Can you?” he asked breathlessly. “Can you come again?”

Sherlock whined highly and tried to shrug but was unable to and continued to tremble and writhe uncontrollably, his eyes unable to focus. He laughed and bucked and struggled under John wildly, his fingers getting caught on John’s bunched up vest. Sherlock’s penis was half hard and deeply red, and after another series of tickling prodding and stroking by John, it gave a pulse and weakly spurted two thin lines, catching John’s stomach.

“Good boy.” John sighed, shaking as he bent to kiss Sherlock softly on the lips and stroke his hair back. John rolled off onto the bed and smiled in a loving and goofy way at Sherlock. “You know what?”

Glancing at him under hooded, unfocused eyes, Sherlock grinned wonkily, “Hm?”

“I'm so hungry,” John giggled and nudged Sherlock. “Go make me a bacon sandwich?”

Sherlock scoffed, “No – And not just because I can’t walk yet,” he said and chuckled weakly, glancing at the mess on his shuddering stomach and torso. “I need another shower…”

“Mrs Hudson is going to whinge about the water bill.” John smiled before his face dropped. “Shit. Mrs Hudson… what if… she might have … oh fuck she's going to hear us”

“Most definitely,” Sherlock agreed with a long sigh, reaching over to clumsily stroke John’s jaw. “Should have thought of that before…” He wrinkled his nose in amusement. “Although, she might not know exactly what’s going on. Seeing as all she’ll hear is me laughing.”

“And moaning. And me swearing.” John chuckled and groaned as he tried to turn over to stroke Sherlock's hair. “More sleep? That sounds good. Then phone down to Speedy's for bacon sandwiches… then more sleep. Repeat.”

Sherlock shuffled close enough so that their shoulders were pressed together and he could rest his head nearer to John’s own, “That sounds awfully tedious,” he muttered, eyes already closing.


	5. The Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter.
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone reading, and also for the amazing comments. Myself and Gem love you all.

John smiled as he watched Sherlock flinch at every slight movement of John's body. The doctor had spent the entire day tormenting Sherlock with casual and soft touches which left Sherlock jumping and gasping for breath due to the tingling shivers it sent racing through his body.

They had been at a crime scene, a murder. Something dull, according to Sherlock, but had become infinitely more interesting when John began leaning over Sherlock's body, standing close and running a finger on the inside of Sherlock's wrist. Lestrade had looked up at the shocked yelp, which Sherlock had given off and John had to bite the inside of his mouth hard to stop him from laughing. Lestrade had kicked them off the scene shortly after, telling Sherlock to find out what poison was used, which is how the pair ended up sitting in a lab with Molly.

Sherlock was on edge, he had already dropped three beakers, smashing them on the floor, making Molly tut and roll her eyes laughing, “Butterfingers,” only to be shot down with Sherlock telling her to shut up.

John narrowed his eyes; unhappy with the way Sherlock was speaking to their friend. He moved behind Sherlock slowly, pressing against his back and peering over his shoulder, “Hmmm, interesting,” he mumbled, carefully tracking Molly's progress across the room before John jabbed his fingers into Sherlock's sides and tickled. “Stop being a cock to Molly.”

Sherlock jolted forward, stumbling over his own feet with a stifled, garbled shout, “I am doing no such thing!” He whispered breathlessly through his clenched teeth, his face blotchy. His pupils were hugely dilated as he looked John’s body wildly up and down, and tugged his coat closed with fisted hands.

“Tell her you're sorry,” John whispered, watching as Molly wrote something on a clipboard and brushed her hair back. “You didn't mean to tell her to shut up.”

“No,” Sherlock replied, crossing his arms and arching one of his eyebrows with a very faint smirk, his expression entirely brazen. He took a few steps away from John but not too far, his racing heart evident in the pulse at his neck.

“Molly?” John said sweetly, turning to smile at her. “Can you do me a favour and grab us some coffee? I hate to ask but I think me and Sherlock need to have a word.”

“Sherlock and I,” Sherlock corrected arrogantly with an even more audacious expression

Molly frowned but then smiled, nodding “Yeah, sure. No problem,” she said, putting down the clipboard and turning to leave. “Don't let him into the chemical cupboard.”

“I won't,” John promised, waiting for Molly to leave before grabbing Sherlock and using his strength to pull him close, “You will listen to me, do you understand?” He growled, pushing closer so his front was pressed completely against Sherlock. “You will be nice, polite and kind to Molly Hooper.”

Sherlock jerked firmly, twisting to try and get away with a shudder of eagerness, “And if I don’t?” Sherlock asked.

“Then I'll tie you to the bed, blindfold you, put the tightest cock ring I own on you, and leave you there.” John promised, leaning up to whisper into Sherlock's ear and bite his lobe hard. “And I’d keep you on edge for hours… and hours… and hours. I can be quite stubborn when I want to be and watching you mewling and desperate is good enough reasoning.”

“What if I want that? What if I…really…really ache for that?” Sherlock breathed with a shudder, shifting his stance and struggling half-heartedly to free himself, his body already burning with arousal. “Perhaps I’ll be even crueler to Molly to ensure you do all of what you say.”

“I won’t be tickling you,” John told him with a quirked mouth and burning gaze, holding eye contact. “At all. I won’t give you what you want. I’ll do everything but what you want, what you need…what you crave…”

Sherlock’s eyelids fluttered and he swallowed thickly, “You—”

“And not only that,” John interrupted, pulling away, “I'm going to take away your violin. And your microscope. I'm also putting on a weeks sex ban.”

Sherlock jolted so fast toward John that he slipped clumsily, “What? – How can you ban something that hasn’t even happened yet? Don’t be stupid,” he replied, eyeing John closely and then wringing his long fingers together. His trousers were obscenely tented and he was shivering and breathing heavily, looking nervous and eager all at once.

“I've sucked your dick. We've covered one another with come. We've had sex.” John insisted. “But if you continue being mean, then I think I might have to reconsider.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to retort but decided against it after reading John’s expression and instead mumbled in annoyance, “I wasn’t even that mean to her…”

“Then it won’t be hard to apologise.” John smiled, moving to kiss the top of Sherlock's head. “If you do it really well, there will be a treat in it for you...” He teased, running his hands up and down Sherlock's neck before tickling at the collarbone.

Shuddering with a breathy chuckle, Sherlock flushed, moved away a little, and then swayed back into John’s personal space, “Must I apologise for something so…minuscule? – I’ve told her to shut up before.”

“Think of it this way,” John whispered, stroking up to rub his hands through Sherlock's hair. “It'll make me happy. And you want to make me happy, don't you? Because you're my good boy.” John moved himself to kiss along Sherlock's neck, tilting his head and pressing soft and tender kisses along the soft skin.

As Sherlock was sighing and moaning at John's touch, Molly pushed open the door holding the cups of hot coffee, and Sherlock let John quickly move back. “Here you are,” she said with a smile, clumsily balancing them in one hand as she held her own coffee in her other hand. “I’m sorry in advance for any bitter taste. The coffee machine hasn’t been cleaned yet and…well…”

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock told her with a faint smile, his fingers gripping at one of John’s arms eagerly. “I didn’t mean to tell you to shut up earlier.”

“What?” She frowned, “Oh. Oh it's okay. You've said worse.” She walked a few more steps forward, eyes on Sherlock and cheeks red, and then tripped with a faint gasp, spilling the coffees to the floor.

John frowned and shook his head before moving to help Molly clean up the spillage, bending over and looking over his shoulder with a smug smile when his jeans cupped his behind perfectly. John wiggled as he wiped the floor, tutting and making grunting noises before grumbling, “It's so dirty. So very dirty, Sherlock.”

Sherlock blinked at the sight and rumbled low in his throat before he could stop himself, “Yes,” he said huskily, rooted to the spot as he watched.

John smirked and then looked up innocently at Molly, “This doesn't seem to be working. I think I'll have to go harder, deeper – into the carpet.”

“…Now who’s the one being cruel,” Sherlock mumbled with a frown and a dark blush, his fingers wrenching his coat more firmly closed as he took a few brisk and rigid steps over, grabbing for John’s arm. “We’re leaving.”

“So soon? I thought the experiment was time sensitive?” John smirked, “Or is it something you can do from home?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied shortly as he dragged John with him, throwing open the door with a shaking hand.

“Thanks Mol, take care!” John shouted through the door as he was dragged into the corridor. Sherlock was faintly trembling, his hand shaking in John's as they rushed towards the exit. John wasn't sure he could make it back to Baker Street so twisted his body, grabbing Sherlock and pushing him inside the disabled loo, locking the door and slamming Sherlock against it to snog passionately and without grace.

Sherlock groaned loudly and gripped at him, returning the kiss before submitting to John completely with a quivering inhale, “Here?” He asked when they broke away for breath moments later.

“Yes. Can't wait.” John growled and bit down on the side of Sherlock's neck as his hands fiddled with the zipper of Sherlock's trousers. John eventually opened them, letting them fall to the floor along with Sherlock's boxers before wrapping his thick hand around the silky yet steel hard cock.

John pushed Sherlock against the wall further, his hand working hard and fast on Sherlock's cock whilst he licked, sucked and bit at his exposed neck, “I want to make you come here, I want to smell you on my skin in the taxi then when we get home… I'm going to fuck you.” John growled looking up at Sherlock through heavy lidded eyes. “Yes?”

Nodding frantically, Sherlock wheezed and scrambled to hold onto something, his erection throbbing in John’s hand, rosy tipped and leaking, “Yes. Yes…John,” he whispered gutturally, rolling his hips up. “Anything!”

John ran his other hand up Sherlock's shirt to begin tickling his stomach, focussing on the most sensitive areas, which he knew, drove Sherlock wild. Digging his fingers in, he picked up the pace on Sherlock's cock and moaned, “That's it. Clever boy. Are you going to come for me?”

Tensing with a garbled and echoing shout, Sherlock thrust, squirmed and twisted overpoweringly with clenched his eyes and a snorting, hitching laugh as he climaxed without warning. His penis thickened, twitched, and then coated John’s hand and Sherlock’s shirttails in a copious amount of dripping white.

John kissed Sherlock, groaning into his mouth as he pinned Sherlock to the wall roughly. John was already rock hard, straining his jeans, but he didn't want to waste time in the loo's of the mortuary when he could be home fucking his lover. He turned and washed his hands, wetting a paper towel and dabbing at Sherlock in an attempt to clean him, “It'll do,” he smiled, kissing Sherlock's forehead and then attempting to help him stand. “Can you manage?”

“Yes, John,” Sherlock slurred, swaying and stumbling forward a few paces with a wonky and wide, blissed out smile. He was mussed and immensely unsteady, and his hips bucked every so often in aftershock as he tried to compose himself and tuck in his soiled shirt.

John was practically vibrating with lust and desire for Sherlock, barely making it out of the cab and up the stairs before they were snogging again, John pushing Sherlock against the wall and rutting against him as he dragged his fingers up and down Sherlock's sides.

“Sofa.” John moaned, but made no attempt at moving. “On the sofa…”

Sherlock twitched and shifted from the light touches, huffing small rumbles of laughter between sighs and groans of pleasure. He couldn’t seem to pull himself away from John and kept their mouths continually pressing together as he gripped at John’s shoulders and sprawled submissively against the wall and then over John in waves of eagerness.

Licking into Sherlock's mouth, John lifted Sherlock and forced the younger man to wrap his legs around John's waist. John was smaller, but much sturdier than Sherlock and it was easy to lift Sherlock against the wall, enjoying the sweet friction and allowing himself to slip his hands to Sherlock's plush bum, “Can I fuck you?” John whispered into Sherlock ear, nipping and sucking at the pale skin of Sherlock's throat. “Please.”

“Yes,” Sherlock gasped softly with a shudder and squeeze of his legs, drawing John in closer with a contraction of strong thigh and calf muscles. Sherlock was still somewhat sensitive and shaky from his recent orgasm, but it didn’t seem to cool the raging, lustful, spiking of his arousal. John could even feel his penis engorging faintly while Sherlock squirmed, tugged and kissed at him.

John gave a final, deep and passionate kiss before licking and sucking down Sherlock's jawline, carrying him on shaky legs until John dropped him unceremoniously onto the sofa. John's cock was hard, pressing against the fabric of his trousers and he couldn't help but move his hand down to squeeze himself with a hiss of pleasure, “We need to get condoms. Lube. My bedroom. Stay here.” John insisted.

Sherlock leaned up to drag John down into another kiss and nuzzled the side of his face, breath hot and moist where it collided with John’s cheek, “Hurry up,” he commanded raspingly.

John almost fell over in his haste towards the stairs, taking them two at a time and moaning at the stretch of the fabric over his prick. He rummaged around in the top drawer of his bedside table, grabbing a handful of condoms and the bottle of lube before spinning on his heel and rushing back down to Sherlock's side. John dropped the supplies on the coffee table beside the sofa and threw himself back at Sherlock, kissing him passionately almost immediately.

Groaning in happy enthusiasm, Sherlock grasped at him and yanked him close, falling sideways on the sofa and hooking one of his legs around John’s waist. Whilst John had been gone Sherlock had draped the sofa with a cover and rearranged the cushions, throwing some of them to the floor. As they wriggled together, the sofa creaked gently and Sherlock moaned, tugging at John’s clothes before attacking his own, exposing his naked torso in several clumsy seconds.

“Tell me if I go too fast,” John whispered, watching as Sherlock rolled his eyes. However, that was the reaction John had expected, and he waited until Sherlock attempted to insult him before taking Sherlock's nipples into his mouth. He sucked, flicking his tongue over the nubs and bit gently, always on the right side of pleasure and not pain.

Sherlock arched and let out a shuddering exhale in response, twisting his chest a little as he basked in John’s ministrations, “I like that,” he murmured.

Making a soft humming noise, John latched onto Sherlock's other nipple whilst his hands quickly, yet shakily, undid both of their belts and zips. There was an awkward moment when both men had to wiggle out of their trousers, but all too quickly they were wordlessly thrusting against one another clad in only their boxers.

John stroked his hands up and down Sherlock's sides, occasionally finding a ticklish spot but mostly attempting to trace all of Sherlock's body, “One day.” John whispered, nuzzling and licking along Sherlock's throat, “I'm going to strip you down and bend you over this sofa so I can rim you senseless. I wonder if that'll tickle,” he said, slightly breathily, “but not tonight. I don't have the patience.”

Grinning in response, Sherlock cupped the back of John’s head with one hand and rolled his hips up, “You’re such a deviant,” he rumbled enthusiastically, looking happy at the statement.

“I just like making you do this.” John growled, digging his fingers into Sherlock's stomach and tickling. He protected himself from Sherlock's suddenly flailing limbs and smiled, taking one hand away to grasp the lube.

“Are you…going to tickle me during?” Sherlock asked as he caught his breath and reached down to fiddle with his underwear, adjusting his growing erection with an unsteady hand.

Stopping his hand, John stroked Sherlock's face and smiled down, “Not at first. I need you to relax and stay still until you're open enough...” his cock gave a deep bob of desire, “but maybe, when you're close I might? If you want? I don't have to...”

“Are we doing it like this?” Sherlock motioned at their positioning, eyeing the awkward way in which they were lying on the sofa, with Sherlock under John. He shifted his hips, lightly bucking up to press their pelvises together, and smirked at John lustfully, his face pink.

“Erm… Hadn't given it much thought,” John admitted with a blush, “Shuffle up a bit… yeah little bit more. Right, lift that leg.” He tapped on Sherlock's right leg until Sherlock was lying flat on his back over the entire sofa, his long left leg hanging from the edge whilst his other was bent up with his foot on the seat. John moved between Sherlock's legs, taking the lube with him and slowly putting his fingers in the waistband of Sherlock's pants. He pulled them down, baring Sherlock naked and teasingly flushed flesh. “God, you're sexy…”

Sherlock’s smirk widened and he preened at the compliment, watching John’s hands as he dropped his own to his chest, “Thank you,” he mumbled contentedly. “So are you.”

John smiled warmly, his special 'Sherlock said something nice' smile and ducked his head for another kiss. Lifting the lube, he smeared some on his fingers and then looked at Sherlock seriously, “It'll be cold, and a little weird. Sure you're okay with it?”

“Yes,” Sherlock nodded, peering at the bottle for a long moment, flitting his eyes over the label. With a flex of his thighs, he shifted and widened his legs apart a little more and lifted his hips. “What would you do if I said no?” He huffed and arched his eyebrow at John.

“Honestly? I’d probably rub myself off against your stomach whilst tickling you until you came untouched again.” John smirked, “I like that. If you haven't noticed.”

“I had noticed,” Sherlock replied with a light snort and another preening sort of expression, delighting in John’s words.

“You're not a deductive genius for nothing,” John laughed and moved to blow a raspberry on Sherlock's stomach. “Right. This lube is drying so are we doing this? Do you just want to see what it's like first?”

“I already agreed to it,” Sherlock said with a sigh of annoyance, wriggling closer to John excitedly. “I said yes, I wouldn’t say yes if I meant no.”

“Well I didn't want to just stick it in with no prior warning!” John bickered, “Look, I'm trying to give you my best moves, now shush.”

Laughing happily, John added more lube and then carefully used his other hand to press apart Sherlock's buttocks before placing his wet fingers over the hole. He smeared the now warm gel across Sherlock's arsehole, not venturing inside but merely touching the outside.

Sherlock blinked at the caress and lifted his head to glance down his body, where his penis was still gradually lengthening, “It’s not too weird,” he mumbled, his anus fluttering under John’s fingers. Sherlock canted his hips and clenched his buttocks as he became more accustomed to the sensations, and reached down to stroke himself teasingly, flicking his eyes up to John’s face.

“Yeah. Do that.” John whispered, his eyes glassy and wide as he slowly, slowly inserted his fingertip inside Sherlock. It was a tight fit, Sherlock's insides fluttered wildly, and John moaned as he watched the first bead of precome dribble from Sherlock's cock. Using time and patience which John didn't feel, he slowly began to push his finger further inside until it was fully sheathed passed the two rings of muscle. “Okay?” he asked, his voice husky with desire.

Sherlock gave a nod of his head and let out a quivering breath, “Yes – It’s an odd feeling but it’s not entirely unpleasant,” he told John, tightening down on the finger.

“Oh Christ. Just imagining… being inside you. How tight you'll be.” John moaned, dropping his head forward to kiss and lick around Sherlock's navel. “Should I try two?”

“Yes—Why are you asking me? You’ll obviously need to try two. And then three. Your fingers are thick and…quite arousing actually…” Sherlock trailed off into silence, his stomach and chest stuttering with a flex as he stroked his penis a little faster, rubbing the wet tip with a few wet twists of his fingers. “I like your hands.”

“I like your arse.” John huffed, “I'm asking because I don't want to just ram my fingers up you. Surprisingly, this is a team sport. You're supposed to get involved. I like hearing your voice and knowing you're okay.”

John pulled his finger out, put more lube onto his hand and then pushed in with two, going slow and careful whilst watching Sherlock's face.

Sherlock’s brow furrowed a bit, his eyes crinkling in very vague discomfort, something anyone else would have missed, “A team sport,” he echoed with a quick laugh that tensed his muscles and firmly gripped John’s fingers.

“Okay maybe not team… Duo. Duo sport.” John laughed, stilling his hand and then stretching his fingers open in an attempt to widen Sherlock's hole. He continued for a few long moments until Sherlock was open and no longer wincing with the discomfort. “Last one,” John whispered, pulling out his fingers and repeating the motions until he had three fingers deep within Sherlock's body.

Sherlock let out a long, deep breath, his forehead sweaty and his fingers and palm working on the sensitive head of his now straining and red erection. He looked slightly stunned and very aroused, and the blush on his face, neck and chest was darker. He gazed up at John with a dazed sort of look and slowly grinned, flexing his hips with a small sound in his throat.

John pressed a kiss to the knee closest to him, before smirking and tapping against Sherlock's prostate. He didn't want to overwhelm the younger man, so made the touch soft and very gentle, but still enough to send sparks through Sherlock's body.

He reacted instantly with a hitched breath and a jerk, his eyes going wide and body trembling, “God,” he grunted huskily with another, softer, jerk.

John rubbed his fingers across Sherlock's prostate, watching as a long jet of pre-ejaculate shot across Sherlock's belly that forced the detective to look down in shock and surprise. “How does it feel?” John groaned, touching himself gently to stop the ache.

“Stupid…question,” Sherlock got out between a gasp and a low moan, his thighs shaking as he arched his hips up wantonly and rocked into the air, his hand tightening around the shaft of his cock.

“I've never – I always wondered.” John answered, pulling his fingers out and then pushing back in order to slowly fingerfuck Sherlock. “Maybe I'll let you try on me.”

Sherlock swallowed thickly and closed his eyes for a brief moment of pleasure, “Yes,” he whispered, squeezing his erection.

Smiling softly, John pulled his hand from Sherlock and wiped the slick lube onto his boxer shorts, which were massively tented, with his erection. Shuffling them off, John lay naked with Sherlock, reaching to the table for a condom.

Watching him, Sherlock swallowed again and adjusted his lying position, rearranging his leg placements and pulling a cushion under his head, “I’m glad it’s you,” he told John unexpectedly.

Time seemed to stand still as John thought about the meaning behind those words. Yes, it was true that Sherlock didn't seem overly bothered about his virginity, or the ceremony in which usually pre-empted the loss of it, but the sentiment of the remark hit John between the eyes. Rising up on his knees, John draped himself over Sherlock's body to kiss him softly, keeping it gentle and loving before pushing his clean hand through Sherlock's curls. “I love you, truly. I'm glad it's me.”

Sherlock blinked at him and then smiled with a happy blush, lifting his chin to kiss John back lightly, breathing against him, “Once I get used to it,” he murmured against John’s lips, “I want you to pin my arms down and…tickle me. Try and do it without warning. Please.”

“Try not to hit me.” John smiled, kissing Sherlock and then pulling back to open the condom wrapper, slicking it down his cock and then smearing the latex with lube. John shuffled comfortably into the cradle of Sherlock's open legs and guided the tip of his penis into the space between Sherlock's buttocks. He rested for a moment, meeting Sherlock's eyes before pushing inside until the tip of his cock pushed through the internal muscles.

“Jesus,” Sherlock muttered under his breath with a shiver and a flutter of his eyes, tensing and rolling into the intrusion a bit. He breathed slow and steady, getting used to the feeling of it all, and then relaxed into the sofa and rubbed his right leg against John in a signal for more.

John lifted Sherlock's testicles up, watching as his cock slowly slipped further inside his lover. The sight was unbelievable, and John couldn't help the slight giggle, which escaped his lips, “Sherlock – Sherlock I'm inside you. Look. Feel it.” he said, reaching for Sherlock's hand and placing it around their join.

Sherlock’s long fingers pressed, stroked and caressed curiously, and then swept up John’s pelvis and hip, gripping and groping at his hot skin as Sherlock’s erection gave a slick throb, “Feels good,” Sherlock said dazedly, and then lifted his head to try and focus on John a bit more. “Can I do this to you too?”

“Yes.” John said without really considering the question. It seemed that his body was overriding his brain when it came to what he wanted.

John continued pressing in, stopping with every wince and hiss of Sherlock becoming used to the sensation. He was glad of the condom between them, dulling the sensations slightly and stopping him being immediately on edge. John stilled once his hips were against Sherlock's own, his cock completely buried in Sherlock's heat, “God. Oh god. Sherlock --”

“Yes.” Sherlock murmured low and deep in his throat, reaching for John to eagerly grip onto, his penis left to bob tautly between them when Sherlock rotated his hips and shuffled a few inches closer to John.

“Tell me – Tell me when I find the right spot.” John groaned, slamming his eyes closed as he rotated his hips in an attempt to find Sherlock's prostate. When he had done three circles with his hips, John lifted Sherlock's legs and put one around his waist whilst the other went over his shoulder. Bending forward, John kissed Sherlock and began the circles again, knowing that now he was able to get deeper and yet more controlled access to Sherlock's g-spot.

Panting heavily, Sherlock gazed up at John with an oddly dreamy and loving smile, and ran one of his hands up John’s chest to stroke his collarbone, throat and jawline, “You’re highly attractive,” he breathed. “Quite immensely so. I especially like your—” Sherlock tensed with a sudden inhale and scrambled at John’s arms a moment, lifting and bucking his hips up rigidly, overcome when John finally nudged into the correct spot at the perfect angle.

“I think we found it,” John smiled, kissing Sherlock and feeling the breathy groans entering his mouth, “just there?” He asked as he thrust in again, his thrusts becoming longer when Sherlock became used to the feeling.

Sherlock nodded quickly, clutching at John when his penis released another thin stream of pre-ejaculate, “Yes. Yes! God—Mm! Right there,” he whimpered, shaking and closing his eyes when they rolled up in delight.

John rolled his hips, lifting himself up to free his arms from the burden of holding him up. He stroked one hand through Sherlock's hair and his other moved to Sherlock's lips, where he pushed two fingers inside his mouth with a groan, “Suck on them,” he moaned, his hips slapping into Sherlock at a fast, yet quite gentle pace.

Licking first with small, frisky laps of his tongue, Sherlock slowly did as instructed and sucked, increasing the suction and tightening his lips around John’s fingers. He opened his eyes again to stare up at John with wide pupils and a blotchy, pleasure slackened face, and whined in his throat with gathering pleasure, his hips shakily rutting and undulating to meet John’s thrusts.

John watched intently, his cock leaking precome into the condom as Sherlock fellated his fingers. Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed with an intense push against his prostate when John pounced, quickly grabbing Sherlock's hands and pulling them above his head with one hand, whilst removing his other one from Sherlock's lips to tickle, stroke and prod into Sherlock's sides and into his ribs and stomach. It was difficult to maintain a rhythm whilst tickling, but John was too involved in watching Sherlock's reaction to care, plus the squirming was better than any thrust he could muster.

Sherlock threw his head back and grinned widely, inhaling sharply and wheezing, his laughter only erupting after another moment of struggling, where Sherlock tested John’s strength playfully. Each thundering bout of laughter and erratic writhing of his body made his muscles contract and shudder, firmly pulsing around John’s cock as he thrashed and flushed. Sherlock seemed to really enjoy being held down and bound, as when John tightened his grip and applied more pressure, Sherlock groaned and wet more of his stomach with pre-ejaculate. It didn’t take long for Sherlock to get out of breath and close to orgasm, and he whined highly between giggling, sniggering, and full out laughing, peering through his lashes at John as his penis gave a telling jolt, thickening and flushing in Sherlock’s gathering climax.

John moved his fingers to Sherlock's underarms, knowing that it was the most sensitive area, which immediately sent Sherlock into an orgasmic spiral. John tickled roughly, bending down to press his weight against Sherlock's stomach and suck a dark mark into his throat as he growled, “mine,” into the skin.

His need to orgasm was almost overwhelming and John slammed into Sherlock harder, faster, deeper and more frenzied as he grunted, moaned and bit into Sherlock's skin.

After a series of thrusts, with Sherlock moaning and laughing loudly with a hitch every time John snapped his hips, Sherlock twitched and screwed his face up in overpowering pleasure, “Oh! Oh, John I…” he bucked wildly with a sudden inability to speak, and then tensed in orgasm, spilling thick and fast between their bodies with a wet squelch, covering them both in sharp, bursts of heat.

John didn't even have time to warn Sherlock of his own orgasm before he slammed forward and shouted out in bliss, so loud that Mrs Hudson and half of the street would have been aware of what was happening. John felt his cock twitching and pulsing, filling the condom hotly as he shuddered and shook through his release. John slumped forward, ignoring the sweat and come covered skin as he kissed Sherlock softly and inhaled a shaky breath, letting go of Sherlock's hands, “You are – amazing.”

Sherlock continued to twitch and jerk a little, tittering with faint laughter, and looking dazed and incredibly satisfied, “No,” he whispered, rubbing and smearing his mouth against John’s, “you are.” Smiling widely, Sherlock kissed him with a few purses of his lips, and then slumped down onto the sofa.

“We. Are both. Unbelievably good at that,” John said, kissing in-between the words. “We should do it more often.”

“Yes,” Sherlock agreed quickly, reaching for him with his freed hands and deepening the kisses John bestowed on him with a small moan of ecstasy.

“No. No don't try to get me going again. I'm an old man,” John laughed, “I'll need an IV of fluid and 12 hours sleep.”

Sherlock snorted and turned to nuzzle John’s face instead, “You’re not that old,” he said in reply, stroking his hands down John’s naked back.

John groaned and let his hips slip forward before shaking his head at his already softening length, “Nope. I wish I could but looks like he's not ready for round two yet.” He sighed as he pulled out of Sherlock's body, tying off the condom that was remarkably full, and wrapping it in tissues from the coffee table. John mopped Sherlock's belly and then shuffled onto the sofa, twisting them so they were spooning with Sherlock in front and John protectively wrapped around him. “I adore you. You know?” John said, feeling more confident now Sherlock couldn't see him. “I’d do anything for you.”

Holding onto John’s arms and then entwining their fingers, Sherlock nodded in reply and snuggled back against him, “The feeling is mutual,” he told him with a lazily and happy tone, caressing John’s fingers with his own.

John awkwardly pulled the cover from the sofa across their waists. It wasn't long enough to cover them completely but it would at least cover their modesty. John stroked his fingers in Sherlock's hair, yawning deeply and hunkering down for a short nap, he kissed the back of Sherlock's neck and ran his finger across his flat stomach. “Try to have a nap. I'll get us some food later.”

Humming in pleasure, Sherlock wriggled and tipped his head forward to expose more of his nape for another kiss there, “I’m peckish for Indian,” he said.

“Indian it is.” John replied sleepily, dropping off to sleep.

* * *

Mrs Hudson giggled from her seat in her flat. It was fairly obvious what had been going on above her and it wasn't the first time she had heard the final resonating groans from John, and the high pitched giggles from Sherlock. Instead of feeling embarrassed or awkward, her heart was happy at the thought that her idiot boys had finally found the courage to tell one another their feelings.

Knowing that they would likely be hungry, Martha bustled to the kitchen and picked up the still warm pan of curry she had made for herself. She normally portioned them out and froze them, taking some up to Sherlock so he would eat when John wasn't at work, but she assumed her boys would be hungry after their little – encounter.

Slipping silently up the stairs, she listened at the door, and finding no noise, she opened the entryway into the hall, then into the kitchen. She placed the pan on the stove and took a piece of paper from her apron to scribble a note on before leaving it on the table. Mrs Hudson looked at the living room, noticing the two men cuddled together on the sofa obviously sated and exhausted.

“Sweet boys,” she whispered before turning back and walking to her own flat with a massive smile on her face. Maybe she would have her own married ones soon.

**Author's Note:**

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